Who Are You, Wait, Who Am I?
by greengirl82
Summary: What happens when a group of people wake up in a room with no idea who they are?
1. Who Turned Out The Sun?

**Who Are You, Wait, Who Am I?**

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Not now, not ever.

Summary: What happens when a group of people wake up in a room with no idea who they are?

A/N: Hi there! Sorry for being away for quite a bit. A lot of drama in my personal life plus a dead computer put a cramp on my writing time. Anyway this is the first chapter in an epic. On a side note, I'm not sure when I'll be able to post the next chapter due to my father's health and we'll be moving very very soon. I have a few chapters written out but I don't know when I'll be able to post them. I didn't abandon my writing its just real life got in the way.

I do have a few other epics planned out along with another sequel to the Mon Petit/Ma Petite Chère but I'll need to find more free time. If you want to chat with me just look me up on twitter, my screen name is on my homepage. So here we go, enjoy the story

Thanks for reading, don't forget to leave a review.

* * *

Patrick Overton said, "When you have come to the edge of all light that you know And are about to drop off into the darkness Of the unknown, Faith is knowing One of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on or You will be taught to fly."

* * *

_"If I never see your face again, I won't mind..." _

A groan came from the man who was willing his eyelids to open, only for them to fail to cooperate with the simple task of opening.

"Oh my God," a feminine voice muttered, "Who the Hell is singing?"

That made the dark-haired man raise his head, "What?"

"Who said that?" a male voice croaked out before clearing his throat, "Hello?"

"Must you talk so loud?" another feminine voice hollered out loud.

"Who said that?" the dark-haired man questioned, he ran his large hands over his face, wincing when he felt a strange liquid, sticky substance on his hands one that he prayed was saliva, "Hello?"

"Me," a young male voice answered as he slowly braced himself on the circular table trying with all his might to stand up.

"Shit, who turned out the sun?" a dark man's voice grumbled, lifting his head to stare at two men and a woman, "What happened?"

"Better question is, why am I here?" a dark-haired woman asked as she placed her hand to her aching head, "And why does it feel like someone made a piñata out of my head?"

"God, please stop talking," the first woman sharply replied. A stab of guilt ran through her for her harsh comment, "What time is it?"

"According to this really expensive watch, it's a little after ten in the evening," an older man answered, "Now, I have a question."

"What's that?" the dark-haired man asked, his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness of the small room.

"Who the HELL are all of you people?" the older man asked, then frowned, "Wait, who am I?"

That sentiment sunk in for everyone. They all were wondering that very same thing.

"AAHHHHHHH!" a female voice screamed outside of the room.

"What the..." the dark man pondered, swaying slightly as he quickly rose from his seat then rushing out of the room with the small group following behind.

The dark man scurried down the stairs, and into the middle of a spacious office floor.

"Honey, are you ok?" the man asked, concerned for the woman's well-being, "Talk to me, baby girl."

"Get your paws off me," the colorful blonde demanded, "Where in God's name am I? Who the Hell are all of you people? And did you just call me 'baby girl'?"

"Uh, yeah," the athletic man answered confused, "Sorry if it seems degrading or..."

"No, I liked it," the blonde answered, "I don't know why, but it's ok."

Turning to look at the rest of the group, "Sorry for the outburst. I don't know what came over me."

"Nothing spells fear like waking up in a roomful of strangers with no memory of who you are..." the brunette started.

"Or how you got there," the young blonde beside her finished, "What's the last thing everyone remembers before waking up?"

"Hm," the young man frowned, "I only remember waking up here."

"Me too," the dark man chimed in, looking from the three men to the three women, "Not that I don't mind waking up to three luscious ladies, but this is a little too..."

"A little like being abducted by kidney thieves," the brunette finished, "Yeah, this seems like a really bad situation if we all woke up with no memory of anything."

"Oh my God," the colorful blonde gasped, "Everyone check your sides."

"What?" the youngest man queried, "Do you actually think that would happen?"

"Uh, yeah," the woman protested looking around the group of strangers, "Things like that actually happen, right?"

"I dunno," the dark man shrugged his shoulders, "Did you see that on tv or something?"

"I don't even remember what I ate for breakfast, how would I know if I saw that on TV," sighing she rubbed her temples with her hands, "This has to be a nightmare."

"Ouch," the young man's hand went to his aching arm, "What did you do that for?"

"Proving that this isn't a dream," the brunette pointed out, "And unless bruises are real in the subconscious mind, this is the reality that we have to deal with."

"For now," the dark-haired man added, "Alright people, check your pockets."

"Are you robbing us or something?" the dark man scoffed, "What good is it to check our pockets?"

"To find some type of identification," the other man stated matter-of-fact, "You know drivers license or something."

"Good idea," the older man commented, searching his back pockets then moving to his suit jacket, finding a leather-bound wallet, "A-ha."

The rest of the group checked their own pockets, each finding something significant except for the colorful blonde who sighed in defeat.

"All right, it would seem that my name is David Rossi," the older man announced, "And according to this expensive leather wallet, I have a lot of credit cards."

"Ooh, shopping trip?" the perky blonde teased, "Well, unlike the rest of you, I'm stuck in a dress. A colorful one, I might add. But according to this silver identification bracelet, I'm Penelope Garcia and I'm allergic to shellfish."

"Penelope?" the dark man snorted, "So do you have a nickname?"

"Uh," Penelope paused, "Penny?"

"Penny suits you," David grinned turning to the brunette beside him, "And you would be?"

"Emily Prentiss," she read, staring at the driver's license in her hand, "Huh, I'm an organ donor too. Well, I hope this isn't some kidney heist thing because I'd like to be dead before they start carving me up."

Penelope and David chuckled at that, "We'll make a mental note on that, and you are?"

"Dr. Spencer Reid," the young man read, "And according to this identification card, I'm a member of MENSA. I guess that means I'm smart?"

"Wow, a certified genius in our very midst," Emily commented, "Hope this means you can figure out what the Hell happened here."

"Or where we are," the younger blonde chimed in holding up her license, "I'm Jennifer Jareau."

"Look at that rock," Penelope lunged forward, staring at the diamond encrusted ring on the young woman's hand, "So where's the husband?"

"I don't know," Jennifer said, the sentiment setting in for her "Oh my gosh, I'm married?"

"Wouldn't that be a bizarre thing if it was one of these guys here?" Penelope chuckled, "Huh, I guess I have a sense of humor, Jennifer."

"Charming," Jennifer muttered, her heart pounding as she coyly looked around the room at the men in her presence. _Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world... _

"How about you?" Emily turned to the man across from her, "We all know our names, what's yours?"

"Derek Morgan," the dark man interjected showing off his license, "And I'm photogenic."

Emily rolled her eyes, "Good for you, but I was actually talking to... what IS your name?"

"Aaron Hotchner," the dark-haired man read slowly, "Wow, I am not smiling in this picture."

"Aaron here," Emily finished, "So we all know who we are, but does anyone know where we are?"

"Obviously in some type of government office," Spencer offered, "Notice the numerous plaques on the wall? I think this is some type of routine assignment. I mean clearly we're all government employees with these badges."

"Uh, not me," Penelope interjected, "I think I'm assistant or something, I mean those are I.D. badges but I don't have one."

Jennifer reached past Spencer to Penelope, "Wow, that's a lot of pink you're wearing."

"I know," Penelope exclaimed, "What was it, a bet gone bad?"

"Or you could have suffered an emotional setback," Spencer offered, "You know, being comforted by wearing it after an emotional trauma?"

"Trauma?" Emily quietly repeated, an image flashing before her eyes but quickly dissipating before she could absorb it.

"What kind of trauma?" Derek questioned, his eyes scanning to Penelope who shrugged.

"Like I said, I don't even know what I had for breakfast let alone if I suffered some trauma..." she paused, a shot rang out in her memory causing the young woman to falter backwards.

"Penelope?" Derek carefully whispered, "Penelope?"

Once the dark man placed a warm hand on the blonde's shoulder, he tenderly whispered, "Talk to me baby girl."

That got the blonde's attention, "What did you call me?"

"Baby girl?" Derek repeated, his face furrowed with confusion while Penelope's face scrunched up. As though she were remembering something, "What's wrong? Do you not want me to call you that?"

"I don't know," she murmured, chewing her lower lip.

"That's a bad habit to get into," Emily teased, frowning at the easy retort that escaped her lips.

"I know that I should not like it, but... it's ok, I guess," Penelope added, a small smile growing across her face, "Yeah, it's good."

"Good," Derek grinned at the blonde.

"Well, now that we've got that all straightened out," Aaron started, "How about we..."

"Uh, excuse me? But who died and left you in charge?" Derek interrupted, raising his hand up, "Look not to be rude or anything, but us being here isn't just the main problem."

"How so?" Jennifer asked, whipping her blonde locks in her face turning to face the dark man.

"He's talking about the lack of memory we're all experiencing," Spencer offered, "Well clearly we can rule out anything to do with a terrorist attack."

"Oh my stars," Penelope gasped while her hand went to her cheek, "That would be horrible. I mean can you imagine that?"

"Penelope," Aaron tried interjecting, "You don't have to..."

"I mean how can you get something like THAT out of your mind?" she rambled on, "And how can you sleep after seeing all the gruesome scenes..."

"Penelope," Aaron tried again, internally sighing as he shot Spencer an angered look, "Calm down..."

"And what about children?" Penelope added, "How can anyone deal with that?"

Both Jennifer and Aaron frowned at that, while the younger woman looked down at the photograph of the blonde boy with blue eyes looking back at her, Aaron furrowed his eyebrows. He wondered why the rambling newsagent's words struck a chord with him.

And wondered why he felt as though he were missing something important.

"How can anyone want to work in a field where you wonder why..." she started only for the older man to lean over and cover her pink glossed cover lips.

"And how about silence for now?" David asked, turning his dark eyes on her, "Can we have that for two minutes?"

The muffled reply from the pink rimmed glasses woman was met with a nod.

"Good girl," David smiled as he removed his hand, "I have a feeling that, that wasn't the first time I've done that."

"Probably a subconscious memory making its way through," Spencer chimed in, when everyone turned to him, "I'm not sure how I know, but there has been text books and studies written on the subconscious helping amnesia recover lost memories."

"Really?" Derek questioned, "This sounds like a bad storyline on a daytime soap opera."

"So how do we recover these memories?" Emily asked switching the subject, "What go to a hospital? We'd probably all wind up in a padded cell."

"She is right," Jennifer agreed, "I mean one person showing up with a missing memory is credible, but seven?"

"They probably think we all dropped acid or something," Penelope added.

Aaron pursed his lips at that. He knew that the three women had a point, but there was something inside the man telling him that there was more to their problem then just this. There had to be.

"What if..." Derek said, breaking the silence, "Someone did this to us."

"Who?" Jennifer asked, "Who would be stupid enough to attack Federal Agents?"

"People have enemies," he shrugged, "I'm sure we all do, too."

"Well, that is true," Emily chewed her lower lip, "But enough to pull something as big and bad as this? To wipe out all of our memories?"

"We should probably look through some of our old files and..." the lead agent started but flinched that the others sent his way, "What?"

"Aaron, how can we look through files when we have no idea where to look, or even how?" Penelope asked, "I mean there are probably case files on the computer, but what if I don't know to even turn one on?"

"The mind is a powerful muscle, and one of the most common ways to retrieve lost memories is to..." Spencer started, faltering when a memory hit the young agent, "A trauma can temporarily cause the victim to lose important..." his words whispering lightly, "A tragedy..."

Derek scrunched up his nose while the three women wore worried expressions, "Spencer?"

The younger man stared down at his identification badge, his image smiling at him something dawned on him. Something he didn't want to tell the others, at least not yet.

"Spencer?" Jennifer repeated, a little more loudly, "Spence?"

That made the man in question look up at her, "What did you just call me?"

"Spence," Jennifer slowly answered, biting her lower lip, "Spence."

"I know that name," he murmured, turning his gaze upon the young blonde, "I just don't know how."

"It could be, because that is your nickname?" Penelope offered, "Which I happen to think kicks ass."

Aaron turned his dark eyes towards the colorful woman, "Whoops, my bad?"

"How about we all check out the interior of this building to find our places and find out information about ourselves?" Aaron questioned the group, "That way we can try to see if we can remember anything?"

"You mean all alone," Penelope queried, her head tilting sideways, "Out there? By ourselves?"

"Yes, is that a problem?" Aaron asked, his own mind wondering if he could comprehend any new information not only about himself but about the group of people he felt somewhat responsible for.

"But what if it's not safe?" the woman asked. "Who'll go with me? Protect me?"

"We're locked in a Federal Building, Penelope" Emily informed her. "I hardly think we're in danger of anything except ourselves."

"Famous last words." Penelope muttered, "Look, I just think it's better to be safe than sorry, after all we did just wake up without our memories."

"Fair enough," Aaron conceded with a nod, "Derek, you go with Penelope, Jennifer will go with Spencer and David..."

"I can take care of myself," the older man assured the seemingly at ease team leader, "Like I need to worry about someone coming after me. Emily can go with you, Aaron."

The brunette raised an eyebrow at that but shrugged, "Whatever."

"Great," Aaron said, "We'll all meet back here in thirty minutes with whatever information we find, deal?"

"Deal." the group nodded, each pairing off as they left the corner office of the large building.

Aaron stood up, walking towards the unfazed brunette, "Ready Agent..."

"Prentiss," Emily repeated looking down at the I.D. she attached to her white blouse, "As ready as I'll ever be, sir."

Walking out of the room, the two knew that despite the lack of memory either of them had, they were unknowingly at ease with each other in spite of outward display otherwise.

Both knew it was going to be a long day.

* * *

"A single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us. To live is to be slowly born." Antoine de Saint-Exupery

* * *

**To Be Continued... **

So what do ya think? Please don't forget to review, they mean the world to us poor fanfiction writers.


	2. How Bad Could This Memory Be?

**Who Are You, Wait, Who Am I****?**

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not now, nor ever.

Summary: What happens when a group of people wake up in a room with no idea who they are?

A/N: Thank you all for reviewing the first chapter and your kind words, it means the world to me. So on the personal life front; my Dad had another setback and with his health, he's my first priority and I don't know when I will be able to update again, as my time is spent in the ICU and I have a few more chapters to write of this story... but I thought I'd give you all another chapter for your lovely reviews and the kind P.M.s I received.

So here's another chapter. I hope you all like the story so far. I'm not sure how long this epic will be but I do promise that it's plot I have running through my mind is good and I'll try to put everything in it.

Thanks for reading, don't forget to leave a review.

* * *

"The difference between what the most and the least learned people know is inexpressibly trivial in relation to that which is unknown." Albert Einstein

* * *

Pacing the room wasn't doing any of them any good but they couldn't help it. Each was wary of the person beside them, afraid that they had caused the infliction that persisted all of this in to fruition.

"Will you stop that?" Jennifer asked, blowing the blonde lock of hair out of her eyes as she looked up at him, "You're making me nervous."

While the female agent resumed her task of going through a stack of papers on her desk, that she found quickly due to the young man currently annoying her.

"Factually one cannot make another person nervous," Spencer blubbered out, "It is the joint emotions of fear and anxiety that makes a person feel fear not another human being."

As the man blathered on about facts that flew over the blonde's head, an image came to his mind. An angry face of a man no older than him. But what startled him was the way that scruffy man's holding something shiny while his eyes went from anger to scared then back again in a matter of seconds.

"What?!" the blonde exclaimed, "I can't believe this."

The younger man had another flash, he was sobbing something, _'I didn't mean it.'_

"I didn't mean it!" Spencer barked out, looking to the woman behind the desk.

"Mean what?" Jennifer asked with a raised eyebrow, "Spencer are you alright?"

"Huh?" he asked, coming to from his momentary haze of a faded memory, "Yea, fine."

"Spence," she chastised, "If there's something you're remembering, you have to be honest about it. How else are any of us going to remember anything if you're keeping secrets?"

"Leave it alone, Jennifer," Spencer's flat tone replied.

"Spencer," she repeated, "Answer me!"

"I said 'Leave it alone'," the young man reiterated harshly, his eyes looking anywhere but at her hurt blue ones.

"Fine," she inhaled, holding in her feelings in. The woman knew that she couldn't get the man she felt close to, to answer her but she knew that the male members of her team could.

While the two resumed their tasks of searching her office, down the hall of the Federal building David was snickering while he looked through the books on his mahogany bookshelf.

"Seems that I'm quite the little entrepreneur," he bemused, flipping over the true crime book reading the back cover and frowning at the image staring back at him, "Jesus, I'm not that old, am I?"

As the older man stroked his goatee, he dark eyes wandered to his mahogany desk. The name plate bright and shiny reflecting his name. Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi.

"Rossi," David repeated sitting up straight pondering his name, "David. David. David? Dave?"

As David contemplated over the fact that he didn't even know if he had a nickname something caught his eyes. Something silver plated. Setting the book down on the desk top he stood up walking the few feet towards the bookcase across from him.

Picking up the object, he saw a smiling faces of himself from his younger years. At least twenty years, he estimated. But there was a woman with him.

"I'm married?" he murmured, his younger self staring at the woman in the wedding dress, "They looked so happy."

He turned his gaze down to his hands, there was no wedding band, "I guess not."

As he returned the frame to the bookshelf, a memory hit him. A flash of himself sobbing as he set flowers down upon a fresh grave. Leaning against his desk, the man took a deep breath, covering his eyes with his hands.

"What's happening to me?" he sighed, looking out of his office towards the large break room.

"So what do you got, mama?" Derek asked the frazzled blonde sitting in front of several computers, "Hello?"

"Hmm?" she murmured, rubbing the bridge of her nose, "Oh, I have no clue."

"None?"

"Well, I do know how to turn it on," she informed him, "But other than that, I'm a blank slate."

"Well not completely," Derek told her, slowly making his way over, he knelt down, "Think about it, Penelope. Everyone has a past, everyone has to have something online about themselves."

"You think?" she asked.

"Honey, you're not living off the grid like a nomad," he gave her a megawatt smile, "And I'm sure, somewhere inside that pretty little noggin' you know it. You're smart, you will figure this out."

"I just hope that it's soon, hot stuff," Penelope replied, her fingers touching the keyboard; though the board felt foreign to her something inside told her that she knew it, "Because I'm so not having fun not knowing how I am. This is real life, not a bad made for tv movie."

Derek raised an eyebrow at that, "Well there's one thing we know about you, mama, you have a wicked sense of humor."

"Mama?" Penelope pursed her lip then nodded, "I'm ok with that."

As the blonde analyst continued to pour over the enclosed office space, looking for any clues that could help her trigger her memory. Sitting up, she let out a defeated sight turning to the man beside her.

"There's nothing," she cried out, slamming her palm on the desk "I can't find anything that could help me remember who I am."

While she rested her forehead against the palm of her hand, she angrily slammed her free hand on the desk again this time knocking down an object. Derek leaned over retrieving the fallen item, chuckling once he had a good look at it.

"What?"

"I think you dropped your troll," he said, trying to keep a straight face before grinning.

"My what?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as he held up the pink haired doll, "Oh," furrowing her eyebrows, "Oh, I'm one of those people."

The dark man placed the colorful doll upon the desk when he heard the woman shriek, "What? What is it?"

Turning his gaze to what startled the younger woman, "Baby girl, I have no idea what's going on here..."

"There!" she pointed her pink finger nail towards the screen, "See, that's me and you."

Leaning in, Derek's eyes saw Penelope and his images reflecting back at him, "Us?"

"Uh huh," she slowly scrolled the mouse to another image, "I think... I think we're a couple..."

"Really, me?" he asked bemused, a smile growing across his face, "I have a girlfriend."

Penelope turned her gaze onto the dark man, "Yeah, so? Does that surprise you?"

"Kind of, yeah," the man admitted, pondering that piece of information, "I have a girlfriend."

"And it's me," she reiterated, "Huh, wonder if I'm the jealous type?"

Derek shrugged as he stared back at the intimate embrace of them in the photo.

"Nothing, nothing and a big fat nothing," the brunette woman sighed, "Why the hell did this happen to us?"

Aaron lifted his head over the mountain of paper work on his mahogany desk, "Better question is who did this."

"You really like having the last word don't you, Aaron?"

That made the man pause, he didn't know if it were true or not, but he felt something within him awaken at that, "Meaning, Agent Prentiss?"

"Oh don't take that tone with me, sir," the last word hissed out. A recollection flashed over the woman, causing her to still. A familiar feeling stirring her, but before she could give it much pause she stiffened her spin, "My apologies, sir."

The _'sir'_ hit him again, but this one cut close to the vest. He didn't understand why the simple word stung him, but he told himself that the phrase was nothing more than what was stated. He was a man of importance and in charge. That the agent meant no disrespect by it.

That's what he chose to believe, even when the woman's angry eyes landed on him. Sighing, he knew this was going nowhere and they still had the rest of his office to search for information on himself and his agents to help trigger their memories.

"Ok, I'm going to check this file cabinet," Emily muttered, trying to will something to happen. Anything, she told herself.

"Fine," Aaron mumbled, resuming his earlier position of searching his desk.

As the two sat in uncomfortable silence, Aaron Hotchner pulled open the bottom drawer ready to find nothing when he heard a surprised gasp from the woman in his office.

"Oh. My. God," her stunned eyes widening as she looked at him, "You'll never believe what I found."

"You're right, I won't," he bit out.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," a third voice called out from the doorway, "Or rather the wrong side of a conference desk."

"An empty one at that," the blonde added under her breath.

"Penelope, Derek," Emily greeted, holding her found object to her chest, "Did you find anything out?"

"Well other than an embarrassing troll habit, no" Derek lamented, grunting when the blonde jabbed him, "Oh and that Baby Girl here and I are dating."

"Dating?" Aaron queried, "Really?"

"Yup," the blonde grinned, "Who knows who else is dating someone here? Maybe even the two of you?"

Emily and Aaron both exchanged puzzled looks, both taking in account what the colorful woman told them. When the brunette whirled her head back to the other pair, Aaron's eyes trailed down to his desk.

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," Emily quickly retorted, "So you're together? Funny Derek, you strike me more as a player. No offense."

"Some taken," the man teased, "I know, but maybe it's because I hadn't found the right woman."

While Emily raised her eyebrow at that, he added, "Or at least I think I have found the one. Who knows?"

"Anything else, Agents?" Aaron interrupted, it was frustrating the team leader that he hadn't found much progress in his own search. Flipping over the file in defeat, he reached down to open his desk when he heard a crash.

"Oh here, don't lose this," Emily said, passing over the fallen frame, "Hey, he looks like you. I think... I think this is your son. Do you have a son?"

Grasping the edge of the dark picture frame, "I don't know... I... I think so."

"What's his name?" Penelope asked.

"Oh God, I don't know," Aaron said, he could feel his chest tightening at that thought, "I can't believe I don't even know my own son's name."

"Hey, hey, hey," the brunette soothed, "Calm down, Aaron, just calm down. It's ok."

"It's not ok," he barked, instantly seeing a wounded look in the brunette's eyes then hid quickly "None of this ok. I have no idea who I am, let alone my own son's name."

Emily placed a warm hand on his arm, "Maybe it's not, there's still hope. Here..." taking the frame from him, she unlatched the backing removing the school photo of the small boy with the bright smile, "Here you go."

"Jack Hotchner age seven, grade three," Aaron quietly bemused, "Jack."

"He's a good-looking boy," Penelope commented, "He has your smile."

Placing the photo back into the frame, Aaron smiled at the sight of his young son as he set the picture proudly on his desk, "Ok, did anyone hear anything from David Rossi? Or Jennifer and Spencer?"

"Nothing yet," Derek answered, "We were on our way to find my office. If I have an office. I wouldn't want to have one of those desks out there. By the way Princess, yours is slap dab in the middle central."

"Princess?" Emily and Penelope chimed in unison.

"Hot stuff you better refrain from those type of comments," Penelope wagged her finger in front of his face, "Otherwise I won't be a happy camper, and I'm sure Emily here wouldn't like it neither."

The woman in question was mulling over the nickname, "Whatever, I just want to find out about my self."

"Ooh, what if there's a wedding photo for you down there? Or a kid?" Penelope eagerly questioned.

"Honey I doubt it," the brunette wiggled her ring finger in front of her, "So I either am single with a cat, which is sad, or I'm just too damn picky?"

Marching down into the empty bullpen, Emily saw a name plate on the desk Derek pointed out to her and she quickly sat in the office chair and perused her neat desk.

"So obviously I'm a clean freak," she murmured to herself, checking for framed photos of any family members and seeing none, "And I don't have any significant other to speak of. Great."

Quickly looking through the piles of manila folders on her desk, she surmised that she was a workaholic. A diligent one at that from the number of encompassed in the outgoing box. While she silently read one case file, one that turned out to be a graphic and gruesome murder-suicide of three. Her eyes welled up at the image of a boy no older than twelve. A blond boy with piercing blue eyes.

The eyes are what entranced her. There was something about those eyes that captured her attention. It was as if she knew those eyes, but it couldn't possibly be she told herself. No it wasn't, her mind warred with itself.

A flash of those eyes sent her mind reeling backwards, to an image of herself with a little boy. The two were laughing, when they heard a voice. That one voice that made them both freeze.

"Hello, Emily?"

The brunette's breath hitched at that, _"Hello, Emily." _

"Emily?"

A large hand touched her shoulder causing her to shrink away, "Don't touch me."

"I'm sorry," Aaron emphatically apologized, "Emily, are you ok?"

That snapped her back to the present, she looked up to the concerned and warm eyes of her boss, "Oh, I'm fine."

"What was it?" he asked, "You remembered something, what was it?"

"No, no it was nothing important," she waved him off with the lie, turning the conversation back to him, "How about you? Anything else you remembered up there? About Jack or anything else?"

"Well I found the teams personnel files which I'll give everyone when we return to that round table room," he informed her, looking back down at her, "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"Nothing, it's just a really bad day," she told him, "I'm just going to finish looking through my desk and I'll be up there shortly."

He had stilled at that, _"I'm having a bad day." _An image of her sitting across from him, looking beyond tired and sad ached him. It was more than just a concerned friend and colleague. The sadness behind her sad eyes told him so.

"Aaron?" her soft tone reaching him, "I said, I'll see you up there."

"Right," he said, standing tall he swiftly returned to his office. Looking down into the bullpen, at the brunette in the middle of it all. He felt something change. An emotion he hadn't felt when he was looking at the picture of the woman on his desk.

Flipping the tiny photo over, a brunette with blue eyes and small smile sitting beside him didn't entice or provoke any recollection from him. "Beth and I," he read from the back of the picture, "Beth."

Shrugging at that, he set the picture down and found another framed photo of the team but he frowned at the couplings. He did see Derek and Penelope but they weren't with each other. Derek had his arm wrapped around Emily, while Penelope was leaning against a dark-haired man with glasses and a goofy smile.

Well, this can't be good, he told himself.

As he prepared to leave his office, he stole a glance down into the bullpen towards Emily. One last time, he told himself and was surprised that she had a startled look on her own as she was looking in the bottom drawer of her desk. He wondered why he was focused on her instead figuring out his own life.

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"There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception." Aldous Huxley

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**To Be Continued... **

I hope you're all enjoying this, don't forget to drop a comment or two in the box below.


	3. I Don't Like This Feeling

**Who Are You, Wait, Who Am I?**

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not now, nor ever.

Summary: What happens when a group of people wake up in a room with no idea who they are?

A/N: Thank you all for your kind words and support. My Dad passed away on Monday June 17th, and I'm still in pain and agony over it. This will be my last chapter until I can find the energy and strength to continue to write. I may or may not find it soon I just can't concentrate and I don't have the energy at the moment to focus on this right now.

Thanks for reading, don't forget to leave a review.

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"Omnipotence is not knowing how everything is done; it's just doing it." Alan Watts

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Aaron sat in silence as one by one the separated team gathered into the conference room. Not to his own surprise everyone else was quiet. Almost uncharacteristically quiet.

He wasn't sure if that was a normal thing that they did when they were gathering, or if it was because of their unusual circumstance. He believed it was the latter. He kept his eyes trained for the one agent remaining behind.

When the brunette finally entered the conference room, she took the free spot between Derek and Spencer both men giving her an acknowledging nod before they returned to their own quiet state.

"Eh hem," the leader cleared his throat gaining the attention of the group, "I take it you've all found out information about yourselves?"

"Some," David commented, "How about you two?"

"The same," Aaron answered, his eyes trailing to the personnel files, "Emily?"

"Huh?" the distracted brunette looked up, "What?"

"Did you find any useful information?" he reiterated "That could help us out?"

"A bit," she quickly replied folding a small envelope up and shoving it into her pocket, "What do you have there?"

"Oh, these are all I could find in that office," he started, "My office about everyone."

As he passed along the thick folders, Jennifer quirked her blonde eyebrow, "Personnel files?"

"How are these going to help?" Derek asked, "I mean compared with whatever we do with our private selves?"

"I think he... Aaron's trying to sort out if our amnesia was an attack on the group or one of a personal attack," Spencer stated, rambling on to the awe of the room, "Incidentally did you know that when a trauma occurs, it is common for the mind to go into a safe mode..."

The young man paused when he saw the blanked stares looking back at him, "What's everybody looking at?"

Penelope reached over poking the younger man on the shoulder, "He's so lifelike."

That broke the tension in the room, the confused agents snickering at Spencer's confused face, "Ok."

"What's this?" Jennifer commented, drawing the group's attention back to their original task.

"What's what?" Derek asked, peering over the blonde's shoulder, "Who is Strauss?"

"Section Chief Erin Strauss," Jennifer read, "Recommends that the Behavioral Analysis Unit undergo one on one therapy after the death of team member Emily Prentiss."

All eyes trained on the woman in question, "My what?"

"Death," Penelope whispered, "You died?"

"Obviously not because I'm still right here," Emily said patting her sides then shrugging, "And I don't think any of us believe in ghosts. Right?"

Aaron reached over, grabbing the file from the blonde, "There has to be some logical explanation to this..."

"How about we get back to the reason we're all here," Emily interjected, though she had no clue about this alleged death she still felt uneasy about talking about it, "And why we're all missing our memories."

"There has to be some connection to all of this," David stated, setting down his own file, "All of this can't just be a happenstance."

"Meaning?" Penelope asked, her eyes still trained on the folder before her, "Wow, I did that?"

"Did what, baby girl?" Derek asked, wrapping an arm around her then dropping a kiss upon her cheek.

"I hacked my way into the FBI database," she whispered, a look of shame on her face as she scanned the stunned faces in the room, "I would never do that."

The look of skepticism ran over Derek's face, "Actually, I think that is something you would do, Penny."

"How could you..." Penelope started, pausing, "Oh, you're lucky you're so cute otherwise I'd be mad at you."

"You could never be angry with me, mama."

"Moving along now," Aaron interrupted, though he was a tad annoyed at the lack of memories he had for his own personal life he wouldn't feel right with letting the banter continue, "What's the last thing anyone remembers before waking up?"

The silence told him what he already knew. They all knew nothing.

As they resumed their earlier task, something caught the blonde agent's eye, "We work on a lot of high-profiled cases."

"And?" David questioned, not seeing the observation.

"Well, maybe one of these 'Unknown Subjects' caused our current predicament," Aaron finished, "Great observation, Jennifer."

As the young woman smiled at the praise, the brunette raised an eyebrow at the two's seemingly connection. She didn't know what it was, but there was something that unsettled her. Silently observing the way the two interact, with their rapport both were wearing wedding bands. It dawned on her, that while she was with Aaron investigating his office and his lack of wanting to share the picture he had on his desk, was he married to Jennifer?

The female agent leaned over to the lengthy man to her right, she silently whispered "Spencer?"

"Hmm?"

"What happened in Jennifer's office?"

"I beg your pardon?" he gulped, his heart pounding and felt an approaching headache.

"Did Jennifer tell you anything about herself or her husband?"

"Only that they met through work." he answered, missing the quizzical look on Emily's face, "It was a small memory that came to her right as we were leaving her office. Oh and that they had their son before they were married."

"Son?"

"Yeah, she has a little boy, Henry" Spencer nonchalantly informed her, "He looks to be about six, I guess. Little a mop of blond hair with a big, bright smile on his face."

"Fantastic," the brunette muttered.

"Oh and he has these blue eyes that..." the young genius praddled on, not noticing the woman beside had tuned him out.

_'I need to get out of here...'_ she thought, her mind telling her to find the nearest exit to escape.

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"Risk comes from not knowing what you're doing." Warren Buffet

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**To Be Continued... **

Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed every one of my stories. I'll be back when I am more able to write.


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